


Death and Rebirth

by Archaeologyfiend



Series: From a Certain Point of View [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Not kindly, OC's - Freeform, Original Character(s), Palpatine dies, Politics, References to the Jedi Council, Reflection, Revenge, Yoda's speech pattern is a nightmare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 01:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17695424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archaeologyfiend/pseuds/Archaeologyfiend
Summary: Yoda finally hears of Darth Vader's death and find himself reflecting on a small slave boy so many years ago. Palpatine is furious but finds himself outsmarted when he attempts to pull back control. Mile meets Yoda along with an escaped youngling from the Temple.OrAnakin gets revenge on Palpatine, Obi-Wan can't explain what happened on the Death Star and Yoda reflects on why visions are unreliable.





	Death and Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> So, this took a little longer to write than the others, my apologies. Yoda's speech patterns were difficult to write.

There had been a disturbance in the Force. Yoda stretched out his senses, mid meditation, alarmed to find he could no longer sense the twins. Dagobah’s enhanced Force presence ought to help him feel them, even this far away, but there was nothing. They were gone, lost in the roiling angry darkness that he recognised belonged to Sidious. The Sith Lord was angry, far angrier than Yoda had felt him before. He would assume that it would fall on Vader’s shoulders to take the fall, however, Yoda could not sense him either.

Something had happened.

It appeared he would have to take other avenues to discover the truth of this. The Dark Side was lashing out viciously, howling its fury at something lost, smothering all in its path. Yoda hoped that that was why he could not sense those two bright lights, occasionally dimmed underneath a raging sandstorm. That storm had felt somewhat familiar and had left the old master wondering, questioning the wisdom of following that vision from so long ago, even as he trudged his way out to the last vestiges of his ship, downed so long ago. Salvaging what was left of the communications was something of a chore, especially because Yoda was no technicians expert, but he managed.

Oh, what he wouldn’t give to have Skywalker’s gifts in them now, however. It dimmed his mood a little to think of the once bright light that was now gone, eaten by the swathes of darkness that had overtaken them all. It amazed him at times just how completely they had failed him.

Thankfully, the communications were still functional, probably the _only_ functioning piece of technology left. Dagobah was where Yoda had intended to spend the rest of his life, in self imposed exile for his failures. He had thought it useful, to spend time to meditate and await the arrival of the young Skywalker boy, to train. He had waited, wishing to inform him of all when the time was right, but had he waited too long? Eighteen years was nothing to a being as old as he, who had existed through the hey day of the Jedi Order, but in human years it was far longer. And Yoda was ailing, old and far frailer than he had been in the Clone Wars. Death was not long around the corner, even if it would not be in the next few years or so. He waited patiently as the comm rang, the frequency old but still in use.

It took Organa some time to answer.

“Master Yoda?” Senator Organa stated, looking pale even through the blue of the hologram. Yoda could feel from here that he was truly shocked, not only abut his sudden call but also from something else. “What… What can I do for you?” Yoda considered his words carefully- the Senator was an old friend and ally of the Order but wholly lacking in knowledge of how their ways had worked. How they had forgone the message the Force had given them in the form of a small nine-year old youngling.

“A disturbance, I have felt,” Yoda said calmly. “In shock, you seem to be. Was wondering what has occurred, have I.” Organa was still looking confused and off-kilter but held together as only a politician could.

“Leia was captured by the Empire. Master Kenobi came to help rescue her with Luke and they managed to get away, off the Death Star somehow.” There was a pause as Organa rallied himself. “It would seem that Darth Vader is dead, killed in the destruction of the Death Star.” Yoda blinked, grief washing over him, the memory of all those years ago now at the forefront of his mind. Of a cold youngling they had failed so badly. His ears drooped down. No matter the terrible things Skywalker had done, no matter the atrocities he had committed, there would always be the memory of that small youngling, scared, cold and alone as he faced a Council that had lost all connection to the outside world. Once, the Jedi would have rallied for the peaceful cause against slavery, peacekeepers in every sense of the word and working for the betterment of all. Somewhere along that path, however, they had lost their way.

“A great loss, this is,” Yoda said. “My condolences, to the younglings for their father’s passing.” No wonder Sidious was angry. Not only had his weapon been destroyed, he had lost his apprentice along with it. At least now, Skywalker may have found some measure of peace in the tumult of pain his life had become under the Order. There was a slight commotion and Obi-Wan Kenobi’s face appeared, grave and aged, looking far worse for wear than Yoda presumed one of his species ought to at his age.

“Master Yoda,” he acknowledged, “I do not believe that Vader may be dead.” Bail looked suddenly alarmed, his shock palpable even from here.

“You said Vader was struck down-“ Organa started but Kenobi waved him to silence. Yoda waited for this explanation, curious. If Vader were _not_ dead, then why was Sidious angry enough to cloud the whole Force, ripping through it to find his stolen apprentice. And how could Yoda be so unable to feel the twins if they were alive and unharmed as Organa had implied?

“Yes, a suit that was Vader’s was struck down, but it could not have been him,” Kenobi stated, sounding so very lost and confused. “Someone cut it down before it overpowered me. Someone… Luke called him Father.” Ah, so that was what had so confused his old student. It seemed the Skywalkers had defied all logical explanations once more.

“Hmm,” Yoda hummed, pleasantly surprised at this turn of events. “Surprising, young Skywalker has always been. Feats of the impossible, a speciality of his. Perhaps this is another. Careful consideration, this needs. Meditate on this, I will.” Obi-Wan looked considerably blindsided by this, mouth moving in surprise.

“Master, no one has ever turned back from the Dark Side!”

“In our knowledge,” Yoda agreed. “But, perhaps, missed something, we have. Failed Skywalker greatly, we did. Misinterpreted the prophecy, we did. Learn from our mistakes, we must, to ensure a better future.” Kenobi merely blinked, dumbfounded and Yoda found himself thinking just how young the Jedi Master still was. Humans lived such short lifetimes and some clung to traditions so strongly that they could not see their faults. Obi-Wan had been a good Jedi, but he was simply not made for the changes that needed to be put in place. He had thrown himself into the Order after Qui Gon’s death, had tried to make his young padawan a typical Jedi and failed miserably, meeting Anakin’s stubborn nature at every turn. It had been a mistake, in hindsight, to give such a newly knighted Jedi a padawan, one who had never truly finished learning from all Qui Gon had to teach him. But such was the curse of hindsight- one could not go back and change it.

There was little else to talk about and Yoda cut the connection soon after, considering.

* * *

Sidious was seething. His weapon gone, the Death Star destroyed and Vader somehow with it. He suspected his apprentice had been the one to destroy it- his pitiful attempts to hide his disdain for it had never fooled him- but he had never thought that Vader would commit suicide just to be rid of it. He was no Rebel, he had _destroyed_ Rebels, Sidious revelling in the anger, hatred and pain the cyborg had thrown into the Force. It was inconceivable that he was simply _gone_. But no amount of searching turned up the raging storm of Darth Vader’s anger.

Sidious had been under the impression that such a death would have created reverberations in the Force, would have caused ripples and he would have _known_. But no, it was the news that the Death Star had been blown up by that damned Rebel Princess that brought him the knowledge of his apprentice’s demise. How dare Vader collaborate with the girl to conspire against him! It was in the Sith Code that the apprentice would attempt to kill their Master, not themselves! A small part of him was rather disappointed that Vader’s will had been so weak that he took the coward’s way out, the part that wasn’t furious at that very moment.

Three of his attendants were dead by the time he calmed down. He had to think about this rationally if he were to defeat the Rebels. They had dealt a blow that would embolden others. Vader had simultaneously escaped him and ruined the undefeatable image of the Empire. Not only that, the army and navy were a seething mass of confusion, lost without the guidance of Vader. Throwing idiots at Vader had been an amusement, just to watch the man’s frustration but now those very same idiots were becoming a nuisance to _Sidious_.

Perhaps Vader hadn’t been so ignorant of Sidious’ moves after all.

That thought enraged him all the more, leaving two Red Guards bereft of life before he snapped control of the Dark Side back. It seemed Vader had left him in a damnable position. Image ruined, idiots in control and those that _weren’t_ , were no doubt moving to further themselves. Not to mention, the _Executor_ had disappeared altogether, meaning Vader’s Admiral had just absconded with the most advanced Star Destroyer of the Fleet. Maybe there was more to this plot than just death? After all, he had once been married to Amidala, the impressionable idiot. It had taken quite a bit of work to turn her loss into the driving force for the Empire- too many people questioned the move away from her ideals. No doubt, the Rebels were using her as a martyr.

“Your Highness?” one of his many useless servants asked fearfully. A shaking human woman, holding a plate of fruit, eyes wide and staring at the floor. Strange, he didn’t know this one.

“Come closer, child,” Sidious crooned, beckoning her forward. She was young, dark curls framing tanned skin and golden eyes. Ah, not completely human then. He internally curled his lip disdainfully. Who had thought to place this abomination within his presence? “There is no need to be afraid.” She crept closer, always with the plate forward and eyes to the floor as a true servant should. As one ought to bow before their betters. Disgusting as her birth may be, she knew her place well. He surmised that she must be in her early twenties. He picked up a piece of fruit from the platter, rolling it between his fingers before eating it, as he considered how much to hurt her, picking up another piece of the favoured fruit. Before he could complete that thought, the doors swung open, a tall figure in a blue hooded robe stalked in, followed by two clones in outdated armour and… Admiral Piett.

_Pain_. The tray of fruit landed on the ground with a loud clatter as Sidious howled furiously, the girl leaping away, blade lost in Sidious’s side. He couldn’t attack her just yet as the clones opened fire and he was forced to fall away from the throne. There was a familiar presence here and he grinned, using the pain to channel power to his fingertips.

“I should have known, my foolish apprentice,” he cackled, watching the hood fall away to reveal a face that should have been trapped in metal. The girl had come up from her frantic tumble behind him as Vader- no, _Skywalker_ , lit an unfamiliar violet lightsabre. “How very cunning of you. But you’ve miscalculated.” Red guards swarmed the room and Sidious watched the chaos with glee, eyes never wavering from Skywalker’s face. Piett and the damned clones held up well and Sidious was annoyed to find that, no longer hindered by the suit, his guards that had once been on par with Vader were no longer a match to Skywalker. The man moved with a grace that hadn’t been seen since the Clone Wars. Even the traitorous servant girl had pulled out her own sabre and it occurred to Sidious that Vader had somehow hidden a Force user _right under his nose_ , without him sensing a thing. Lightening flew in his anger, catching both Skywalker and the last Guard he was about to finish. The Guard fell. Skywalker didn’t.

“I think you’ll find I haven’t,” Skywalker growled through gritted teeth, eyes a sickly yellow as they should be. The Force whipped around them, a ferocious fight between two Sith Lords but…

“No!” Sidious howled as somehow, impossibly, his strength waned, Skywalker stealing power from him, putting an end to the lightening and Sidious fell, betrayed by his ailing physical form. “NO!”

“I thank you for your lessons, Sidious,” Skywalker stated, stalking forwards with each step. Sidious struggled to his feet, his breath sticking strangely in his throat. For some strange reason he could taste the Fucaccia fruit and some kind of spice. “I thank you for reminding me of what I am. What I have always been.” The man gave him a gracious smile, one that may have been handsome had the burn scars not ruined it, stretching strangely in certain areas no matter how well someone had grafted skin over them.

“Yes,” Sidious said thickly, coughing wetly, pulling the old transmitter from his cloak. “And now, you will die for good.” If the Dark Side would not end the Chosen One, then the slave chip would make itself useful once again. Skywalker merely inclined his head, as if he didn’t know what it was.

A long moment passed, nothing occurring. Sidious coughed again, feeling something wet bubbling in his throat. What _was_ this? What had… Another cough brought forth red specks from his mouth and a horrible truth dawned on Sidious.

“How dare you?” he growled. “You think _poison_ will kill a Sith Lord?” He could almost laugh at Skywalker’s stupidity. It would be the work of a moment to cleanse his system, purge it from his body with the Dark Side. Except…

“You’ve never tasted _jaipur,_ have you?” Skywalker said almost mildly. Sidious blinked, still pulling at the Dark Side that _would not respond to him_. “I never realised before, but Gardulla used to mix it into my food every night. She knew, even before my own mother did, what a Force Sensitive was. And no one wants a slave who could potentially turn and destroy you.” That damned placid smile was still in place. “Oh, she’d never give me enough to kill me, but it’s a delicate balance. Too much, all at once, or prolonged exposure has… significant impacts on one’s health. And mixed with the acidic properties of certain fruits, say _Fucaccia…”_ There was a dark glee on Skywalker’s face, one that Sidious had felt all those years ago when he had killed his own Master.

“You…!” Sidious gargled. Well, it would seem his apprentice had learnt a little _too_ well. Skywalker’s face darkened, the smile falling from his face as he knelt, watching as Sidious’ body convulsed, whatever he had been feeding him for years reacting poorly with his favourite fruit, killing him from the inside out.

“You will never hurt my family again,” Skywalker whispered, staying just out of reach of the growing blood pool where Sidious lay. And all he could do was glare at him as his inevitable end came in agonising pain. “Not my sister, nor my niece and certainly not my children.”

It took Sidious another half an hour to die, in agonising pain and roiling hatred, unable to prevent it. Somehow, he had been outsmarted by someone wholly uninterested in the machinations of politics, a man that Sidious had so easily influenced for years. That was almost as painful as the acid eating away his insides.

* * *

Yoda felt it when the Emperor died. There was an outward explosion of the Force, a shockwave that reached even him all the way to the Outer Rim on Dagobah. It had barely been two days since his conversation with Bail. He blinked his eyes open in surprise, not only at Sidious’ sudden death, but also at the arrival of two small lights in the Force that had just touched down planetside, a mile from where he sat, no longer hidden by Sidious’ rage. He gently stretched outwards, curious. Who was this person, who had reached him all the way out here? It was certainly neither Luke nor Leia- both of them were still on Alderaan as Obi-Wan had informed him, kept under a close eye by both him and the suddenly present Ahsoka once more. It was nice to know that the young Togruta had survived Order 66 and made something of herself. Another mistake they had made, against her and against young Skywalker. He observed the approaching light, aware that they were following his presence here.

The first person who appeared out of the fog was a human girl. Young, probably only about thirteen if he read human ages right still, right on the cusp of leaving girlhood behind. She was dressed in thick outdoor clothing, clearly in Naboo style, but also durable and functional. Baby fat still clung to her face, but she carried an uncanny resemblance to Skywalker’s Senator, to young Amidala. Hazel brown eyes and thick dark curls, typical of that family, although her face was too long, and the shape of her eyes were different. He surmised that she must be related, however, most likely a niece. The girl smiled when she spotted him, and he knew there would be no tricking this one as he had planned to do to Luke.

“Hello,” she said politely. “You must be Master Yoda.” There was no question in her tone though- she knew who she was talking to. Behind her approached another Sensitive, a young Zabrak male who seemed vaguely familiar. He rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder and with a shock, Yoda remembered. The last time he had seen him, he had been six, a youngling in an early class, but already becoming proficient in basic lightsabre forms. “My name is Milè Naberrie.”

“Hmm, thought a member of Amidala’s family, you were. Bring with you Zanlin, you have.” Said named Zabrak gave him a toothy grin, a reminder of their carnivorous diet.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Master Yoda,” he said with a bow. He seemed cockier than Yoda remembered, and it made the old Master wonder how he had escaped the Temple. A six-year-old would never have been able to escape alone out of a place under siege. There was more to this tale than met the eye and Yoda supposed that they were here to tell him. Or collect him for some nefarious purpose.

“And to what do I owe this visit, hmm?” he asked playfully, hoping that Zanlin had not been corrupted by the Dark. It was the girl who answered, however.

“Uncle Ani wanted us to come collect you,” Milè stated, no room for argument in her voice. “There are some things that need to be discussed, now that the Emperor is dead.”

“A new leader, the Empire will need,” Yoda observed, still curious. Both of them were Light Force presences, no corruption to be found but there were stands of a sandstorm, blown out and away but still there, clinging to them. A metaphorical storm that Yoda had sensed for eighteen years, calmed by the death of the Emperor. A façade or a release? He wasn’t entirely sure, but it would be interesting to find out.

“Lord Naberrie won’t be taking the throne,” Zanlin stated. “If pushed, he might be regent for a while if his daughter continues to argue for the Republic.” That was interesting. A Sith that wasn’t vying for power. And that he referred to Vader by a different name. Most interesting indeed.

“Speak to your uncle, I shall, before I decide,” Yoda stated as if he had the choice. He knew that they would be taking him either way, but they didn’t seem surprised. Milè simply pulled out a comm, handing it over as it rang. The image that appeared before him was not Vader.

Skywalker had most certainly changed over the years. Obi-Wan had never said what he had done to so incapacitate his old Padawan, but it was obvious the effect the lava had had now. Scars ran around his neck and lower face, pulling at his mouth and causing a constant frown. Skin puckered slightly on one side of his face where the burns had been particularly bad. Someone had obviously gone to great care to create skin and hair grafts, to replace that which was missing, causing the scars to be only a slightly paler shade than his natural skin, but the hair grafts had clearly been more successful. Parts of his eyebrows were still missing, and he was dressed in the style of a Naboo noble, although the outer robe was clearly designed after those of the Jedi. A deep hood that would inevitably hide his face if he so wished. Thin bands wrapped around his head, and hair which, from the distorted shades of blue on the hologram, was most likely greying and bound back, the ends brushing just past his shoulders. Yoda was saddened by this visage, another reminder of how they had failed him so badly. Skywalker regarded him silently before tipping his head slightly in respect.

“Yoda,” he said, voice gravelly and clearly helped by an implant but still far closer to his own voice than Vader’s low timbre. “It’s been a while.”

“Expecting me, you were,” Yoda stated, not wanting to draw this out. Apologies could be made in person. This was clearly not Vader, the absence of the Dark Side overshadowing them all. “Freed yourself, you have, from your bonds.” _To us and to Sidious_ Yoda thought. Skywalker’s lips quirked in a suppressed smile, picking up on those thoughts even so far away.

“Yes, I have. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Sidious is dead.” Yoda nodded.

“Yes,” Yoda stated. “Killed Vader too, I hear. Reunited brother and sister too.” If Anakin was surprised, he didn’t show it. Instead he smiled, soft, wistful and beautiful despite the scars.

“Sidious will never be able to harm them.” There was sadness there too though, a bitterness that Yoda had aided in. Skywalker, unable to see his children grow, sad over the time he had sacrificed to destroy the most dangerous enemy to the galaxy. Now it was simply politics to bring peace.

“Hmmm, reunite with your children, you should. Meet with you in person, I will,” he stated firmly, and Skywalker raised a charred eyebrow. His face was stoney, however, and Yoda knew why he wasn’t on Alderaan. Obi-Wan had left more than one scar and while Yoda’s own mistakes had affected him, they were not as egregious as one cut so deeply by a father-figure. Yoda had given Skywalker counsel to the best of his ability, believing in the visions he had seen on Malastare, forgetting his own edict that the future was always in motion. That Skywalker was quite capable of pulling himself out of such situations, creating the impossible.

That would be the first apology he gave, along with one for the terrible advice given over his fears for Padme, as soon as they met in person. Skywalker gave him a brief smile, nodding.

“I will look forward to it. I’m sure Zanlin will be willing to explain some things on your way,” he said. “Unfortunately, I need to go. There’s some corrupt Moffs I need to hunt down.” The transmission ended then, foreboding hanging over Skywalker’s last sentence. Not completely out of the Dark then, but a balance that Yoda had never seen before. Skywalker always was full of surprises.

“Go now, we shall,” Yoda said, handing the comm back to Milè and standing on creaking old bones. The girl took it graciously, already turning to leave. Zanlin offered to help in the form of carrying him, which Yoda gratefully took. Having been sat in the swamp for some time had made him rather stiff and while he was quite capable of walking himself, it would be faster for them to merely carry him back to their ship. Dignity, Yoda had found, became far less important when you got so old, compared to simply surviving.

Besides, he was curious as to how the Zabrak had survived. It would surely be an interesting, if painful, story to hear. But Yoda had made his decision: it was time to fix the mistakes of the past and that meant starting with Skywalker. And how exactly he had fallen so far, only to pull himself back so quickly.

**Author's Note:**

> I think there needs to be a saying like 'hell hath no fury like an angry parent'. And Anakin has sacrificed twelve years of knowing his children just to keep them safe. He's going to be finding the most painful way to strip Palpatine of his powers and health. Considering he was once owned by a Hutt, who know what Force users are and therefore probably have some way to suppress said slave's abilities (after all you don't want them turning on you), I don't find it too outlandish that there is a kind of plant that, once ingested, supresses one's Force abilities. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough to hinder in the long run. The Hutts are spiteful like that.
> 
> I found myself contemplating Yoda's thoughts in this. It is heavily implied in the Clone Wars that Yoda has a vision of Luke and how the Empire is destroyed, that he decides to just let these events unfold, and also seems to forget that Anakin has never done anything by the rules. And, since he does have 900 years worth of experience, and you would assume he has watched the Order change in some way (or at least the world) around him that he would recognise when change is needed. That he readily accepts Anakin's differences in the Clone Wars speaks to this. His soft spot for younglings is also brought up here- I would imagine he remembers and regrets the death of all those he has trained. That, and he would recognise Obi-Wan's inability to see when he's wrong until it's too late- a fact that people tend to forget (see he never admitted his faults until Anakin was far past the point of no return, when such an admission would be useless).
> 
> My apologies for Sidious' racist/speciesist views. But we know he is not one for liking any race other than 'humans'. Also, why is it so rare to see cross-species relationships in Star Wars? You'd think, an entire galaxy's worth of people, we'd see more than we do. I get why it's so in the OT but Prequels? Clone Wars? Anyone? Maybe I'm reading too much into it but I just feel like there's more than we get to see. 
> 
> Anyhow, rants over and I hope you enjoyed this entry. And that Yoda wasn't too annoying in his speech pattern. Writing him speaking was awful.


End file.
